


Primum Non Nocere

by Kestrel_sama



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Mild Self-Loathing, Other, Profanity, Slice of Life, background McHanzo, implied anal shenanigans, mild depictions of violence, mild sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 05:17:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21404809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrel_sama/pseuds/Kestrel_sama
Summary: Three times Angela followed the Hippocratic Oath, and one time she lost her shit. No romance, just doctor appreciation fic.Some of the stuff I wrote for this doesn't hold up to the most recent Mercy short story from the Overwatch team, but they keep giving us scraps, sue me.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Primum Non Nocere

_I solemnly pledge to dedicate my life to the service of humanity: _

“After extensive field testing, it is my belief that the use of the Valkyrie technology would vastly decrease the severity of combat-related injuries, including severe limb-trauma such as what occurred to Probationary-Agent McCree prior to his assignment with Overwatch. Under the right circumstances it could even stabilize an agent who may be on the brink of death until further treatment could be administered in an appropriate triage center.” 

Angela tried to remain calm and free of any overt displays of passion as she presented her request to provide Valkyrie suits for all field-medics instead of the slew of biotics they went in armed with — and frequently ran out of. Passion was good in men, but in a woman —even in this day and age— it was seen as a weakness, a trait that indicated a mind ruled by emotion rather than logic. 

“The cost of even one of these suits, Miss Ziegler, is frankly a bit beyond our means, given the number of currently active field medics,” one of the directors said in an offensively condescending tone. As if their logic was somehow more developed than her own. 

“It’s _Doctor_ Ziegler,” Angela corrected him a touch sharply, “and I am aware that the initial costs would not be insignificant, but if you look at the long-term data, the Valkyrie suit can provide more effective healing than the currently provided biotics packs sent out with the medics.They would pay for themselves within five years. Additionally, the lives saved by a faster response time would cut down significantly on recruitment and training costs as operatives are wounded, killed, or crippled out of service.” 

Someone coughed, a few papers shuffled, and one of the analysts started tapping numbers into a holopad. She couldn’t even find it in herself to be satisfied when she heard one of them murmur that she was correct. 

“That’s assuming that the Omnic Crisis lasts that much longer,” General Amayid rasped. “We’ve made huge strides in the past six months, and the majority of the Omniums have been shut down. Worst case scenario, this war lasts another two years, tops.” 

Angela tried to ignore the stab of betrayal from the only female on the Council of Operations, blinking mildly to hide the flare of frustration that rose up and built like a gout of steam, roiling and trapped beneath the surface. “Obviously once the Omnic Crisis is over, the suits would not be put away alongside the weaponized EMP’s you had no issue funding,” she said tartly, attempting to rein in her temper. “Unlike most military expenditures, these will be useful long past the times of war...they can be sent to help ease the burden of humanitarian crises, or even assigned to high-capacity hospitals to better assist their triage units so the resident doctors can devote their efforts to the highest-risk cases. There are several ways the Valkyrie suits will benefit not only Overwatch, but the community at large if they are mass-produced and distributed appropriately.” 

There was nearly inaudible tapping as the board sent messages to the other members on their holopads, discussing the matter without allowing her to be privy to the conversation.The Speaker got to his feet and finally addressed her after several minutes of waiting that set Angela’s teeth on edge.

“While we all appreciate your experimental advancements in the medical sciences, Doctor Ziegler, at this time we are not positioned to fund a fleet of these Valkyrie suits.” Angela’s gut swooped and her chest compressed with disappointment. “Though your arguments for the future of the Valkyrie suits are well-intentioned, we are not a charitable organization, and the release of what is essentially military tech to civilians, even after the Omnic Crisis is resolved, would be tantamount to handing a pulse rifle to a farmer to kill the foxes getting into his henhouse. Your request has been denied. Continued usage of the prototype Valkyrie suit, however, has been granted to you.” 

Angela’s brain fizzed white-hot with rage, her synapses crashing at the frankly illogical false equivalency they had provided her as an excuse. 

It seemed even the most externally-competent human could be some of the weakest-minded ones as well. 

“Understood,” Angela managed tightly, her face carefully blank. “Thank you for your time.” 

Walking out of that room without shouting and screaming and throwing their datapads in their faces was the greatest test of Angela’s composure in her young life. Instead of railing and cursing and knocking over chairs in general, she calmly walked back to her office on base, and began the work to make her Valkyrie suit more effective than before. If it were going to be the only one, she’d make damn sure it was as efficient as possible.

After all, she couldn’t keep healing if she were court-martialed.

***

_I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon’s knife or the chemist’s drug: _

“Why did you put me back together like this? I am a _monster_. I would rather be dead!”

It was not the first time she had been cursed by a patient, but this one...it felt personal, even though it shouldn’t have. 

It shouldn’t have, but she had just spent a sleepless week ensuring that the cybernetic implants were adapting appropriately to the body of the young Japanese man that Commander Reyes had brought to her doorstep in possibly the sorriest state she had ever seen a still-living human. She’d labored over every graft, every seam. She’d saved as much of the human body that she could — had even ensured that the man had full use of his genitals for heaven’s sake! 

Angela closed her eyes and took in a centering breath. Another. Finally, she opened them and gazed down into the red-tinged irises with a sympathy that was in no way exaggerated. 

“My name is Doctor Ziegler, and at the time, you weren’t in a position where you could give or withhold consent. You have my apologies that you were not given a choice in the matter.” Frankly, she hadn’t really been given a choice either, but she was far less distraught over the outcome than her patient. 

Her honesty evidently surprised the young man. “Aren’t you going to tell me that I’m lucky to be alive?” he hissed, a wounded man trying to start a fight because that was all he knew. Angela shook her head, setting his chart aside and leaning onto the armrest of the chair at his bedside. “No, Genji, I am not. You have a hard road ahead of you, and I don’t envy you the physical therapy you’ll be going through in the months to come. It will be hard and you will hate me. I doubt anyone would call that luck.” 

He went silent once more, gaze darting down to the sensipad-tips of his reconstructed fingers as he held his hand up and touched thumb to forefinger, testing the pressure. “There is only one person I hate, and he is not here.” 

Blackwatch had a therapist-bot, but Angela had the feeling that her patient would react poorly to its presence, given the heavy level of cyberization she’d had to construct onto him. “Would you care to talk about it?” 

Genji looked back at her, letting his hand fall to the bedding. “Why do you care?” he grumbled, still struggling a bit with the synthetic jaw she’d implanted. 

“Because I am your doctor, and I want to see all of you healed — not just your body.” 

Genji had no counter to that — no objection, but no further words either. It was fine. He’d be abed a while longer while surgical steel and titanium grafted to his bones, and Angela had little else to do but wait for him to talk if he so desired. 

***

_I will respect the privacy of my patients, for their problems are not disclosed to me that the world may know:_

A hot cup of coffee was one of the constants that kept Angela going through good times and bad, quiet days and busy nights. It was a brief respite from the pressures of her duties, a tonic to keep sleep away for just another hour, a comforting warmth when her fingers ached from performing delicate operations for hours on end. 

At the moment, however, it was helping Angela greet the dawn as she leaned against the guardrail overlooking the ocean from the roof of Watchpoint Marseille. The salt spray helped clear the fuzz from her brain and the coffee warmed her belly as she tried to catch up to the world after a mostly-sleepless night. 

Not that she was unused to sleepless nights, but she’d _really_ been hoping to have a full eight or ten hours uninterrupted. But of the scant handful of medic-trained people on base, she was the only one who’d officially graduated from med school and thus the only one who’d taken an oath to help those in need, and also, perhaps more compellingly, to not tell everyone about what she’d seen.

She was nursing her second cup and debating a third when Hanzo appeared at her side, a wrapped parcel in his hands. He had the grace to look utterly mortified when she merely gave him an unimpressed sidelong glance before lowering the mug to cradle it before her. “How is Jesse feeling this morning?” she asked solicitously. To Angela’s satisfaction, red tinged his cheeks even further. 

“He is, ah, resting, as you suggested, and no worse for wear, thanks to your, uh, timely intervention.” 

Angela lifted her mug to her lips once more, slurping loudly to fill the silence after that awkward statement. She drew it out just long enough for Hanzo to begin looking even more regretful before he held the parcel up in supplication. “A gift. For you. You have my thanks for your...kindness and your discretion in this matter.” 

“You don’t have to bribe me to not tell anyone, you know,” Angela said dryly. “It’s part of my job to maintain patient confidentiality after all.” 

Hanzo shook his head, still holding out the package. “It is no bribe. Merely a gift of appreciation.” Finally Angela nodded and took it, tucking it under her arm. “Then I will accept, and thank you. Oh — and Mister Shimada?” 

She had the utter gratification of seeing Hanzo freeze like a deer in headlights at the deceptively mild tone of her voice. 

“Yes, Doctor Ziegler?” 

She assured herself that it was professional courtesy alone that kept her voice even. “I have forwarded a detailed handout to your and Jesse’s datapad on appropriate objects to be used in anal insertion. I trust I will not have to see you two in the middle of the night for a similar incident in the future?” She sipped the last of her coffee as Hanzo stuttered out confirmation and made himself scarce with an efficiency only a ninja could manage. Deciding against that third cup of coffee, Angela took her mug to the kitchen and practically sauntered back to her office, package under her arm. 

She might not tell a soul what she’d seen, but she’d never made any promises about not giving anyone shit for their idiotic life choices. 

***

_May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I long experience the joy of healing those who seek my help:_

“Get ‘em, Bob!”

The huge omnic bullrushed Reinhardt, blocking the only clear path Mercy had to the other side of the battlefield. Torbjorn’s turrets started laying down fire while McCree and his former cohort traded verbal barbs and very real bullets. Beyond all of that mess, Mercy could just see a heap of green fabric, and even over the cacophony, she could tell Lúcio’s gear wasn’t pumping out its usual healing bass beat. 

_“Shit,”_ she hissed, trying to maneuver around the mess of bodies and bullets without getting winged herself. A bullet whizzed past her head, barely severing a few tendrils of golden blonde hair. 

D.Va was protecting Lúcio’s crumpled form for now, her pink mech catching stray artillery with its defense matrix before they could come near the already wounded medic. “C’mon, doc! He’s losing blood fast— oh _shi-bal,_ you gotta be _kidding_ me!” 

As if the current scrum weren’t enough, it looked like Ashe had found a kindred spirit in Doomfist, and he was hell-bent on finishing off Lúcio while he was down. Akande rushed with a punch, and D.Va boosted her mech to knock him out of the way at the last second. 

A burst of dynamite went off near Angela, singeing her Valkyrie suit and turning the din of battle into a high-pitched whine. Her suit’s bio-feed told her that Lúcio was crashing, and quickly. 

She was a field medic. She shouldn’t be affected by this, but as Lúcio’s heart monitor blipped erratically on her feed, something cold and calm inside her shattered, exposing a molten core made of pure frustration and fury. 

Unholstering her sidearm, Mercy strode directly into the fracas with her wings flared and fired the pistol directly into the air. 

_“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!”_

And everyone just...stopped. Stared at her mussed hair and her singed armor. And then as one collective, they moved ten feet to the left. Mercy slipped through the opening provided and made her way to Lúcio’s side, a healing beam from the caduceus clinging delicately to his form as ruptured organs slowly began to knit themselves back together. 

Meanwhile, the fight resumed well out of Mercy’s way as though it had never stopped at all. 

“Hey, doc. Did I miss anything?” Lúcio croaked weakly, smiling up at the golden-haloed form over him. 

“Not a thing, Lúcio. You’ll be feeling better soon, and then we can get back to work.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Let Mercy Say Fuck" zine, with proceeds going to Doctors Without Borders. 
> 
> The last scene in this fic was inspired by real-life events as described to me by a Physician's Assistant when I asked her for her most insane ER stories.


End file.
